


(fully formed) ready to run

by girlmarauders



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Dreamsharing, Hockey Magic, M/M, Psychic Bond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-12
Updated: 2018-12-12
Packaged: 2019-09-17 01:18:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16965000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/girlmarauders/pseuds/girlmarauders
Summary: Mikko and Nate get a psychic bond for hockey, and end up in each other's dreams.





	(fully formed) ready to run

**Author's Note:**

> title is from the poem ["What I Didn't Know Before"](http://www.washingtonsquarereview.com/ada-limn/) by Ada Limin. 
> 
> what was between/  
> us wasn’t a fragile thing to be coddled, cooed/  
> over. It came out fully formed, ready to run./
> 
> This fic is for and from [growlery](https://archiveofourown.org/users/growlery/pseuds/growlery) and [frecklebombfic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/frecklebomb/pseuds/frecklebombfic).

  
Mikko hadn't ever had a hockey bond before, but everyone said they were good for your game, and the ritual didn't hurt or anything, so when Bednar pulled him aside at the end of the year to ask if he'd sign up for one with Nate he'd shrugged and said “sure” because why not? G and EJ were going to get one too, and JT and Josty were thinking about it, apparently.

He'd been surprised honestly. He’d wondered if they'd ask Gabe, since a captain and one of his alternates was pretty common, but Coach had asked him and Mikko always thought arguing with the coach was more trouble than it was worth.

He and Nate didn't really talk about it. He brought it up with Tyson, who usually had a pretty good read on Nate’s mental state, and he hadn't seemed bothered, so Nate clearly didn't think it was a huge deal. Mikko decided not to worry about it, and only mentioned it to his parents in passing, over dinner. His dad shrugged, and his mom just said “to that Canadian boy? Well, at least he's not Swedish” and sniffed, like she was still personally insulted by history several hundred years old. It wasn't a big deal.

He flew back to Denver on Monday, earlier than he usually would and with a couple of days buffer so he could do jetlagged workouts in the middle of the night, and then woke up on Thursday, drove to the rink, and went to the all-purpose room they sometimes used for tape review, and team meetings. Nate was already there, and Coach, and Cveta, the Czech psychic who did their pre-season psychic check-ups.

“Hey,” Nate said, and went for the bro hug, where he slapped Mikko’s shoulder. He looked good, big from the off-season.

“Hi, you look good,” he said, cause he never saw the point in messing around about it, and Nate made that kind of hiccuping sound Canadians made when you said something nice about them.

“Thanks,” he said. Bednar smiled and shook both their hands, and Cveta did the cheek-kiss, which made Mikko smile ‘cause he loved that shit, and made Nate go “oh” and mess up the number of kisses. They all sat down around a square table, and Cveta made them sign release forms, and talked through what was involved. blah blah a bond was no guarantee of success, they still needed to work at hockey, some of their privacy rights with the club got waived since they'd be in each other's heads, if they wanted more information they could speak to their PA rep. Cveta tapped her pen against the bowl she'd put on the table.

“I dissolve bonds too, and I'm on retainer with the team, so if anything happens or you'd like to dissolve it, you can speak to me. We'll do check-ins every couple of weeks until it settles, and then just if you need me,” she said.

“How will we know if it's settled?” Nate asked. Cveta smiled.

“Officially, bonds are settled when you can confirm location and emotion from a blind distance of 20 metres. Unofficially? you'll probably start scoring a hell of a lot more,” she said. Mikko laughed, and Nate smiled, laughing a soft kind of “huh” sound.

Cveta put a piece of paper with the Avs logo in the bowl, along with a piece of the rink's ice, cut from the edge and kept in a freezer box, and then reached for both their hands. She pricked the pad of each of their thumbs until a single drop of blood welled up and let them smear across the side, and then she made them clasp hands over the ice, holding their hands together with two of her own. Mikko wanted to put his thumb in his mouth. It stung.

The air in the room got thicker and thicker, like how it felt outside just before a thunderstorm, humid and pressured, uncomfortably so. Bednar coughed, and Nate shifted in his seat, but Cveta didn't let go of their hands. Mikko breathed it in. It was a little like being in a sauna, only not warm.

There was a pop, like a very loud soap bubble, and his scalp tingled and then that was it. Cveta let go of their hands, and Mikko put his thumb in his mouth.

“Cool,” he said around it. He looked at Nate, trying to see if he felt different. Nothing yet. Cveta stood and dumped the contents of the bowl into the trash.

“Go have lunch or something, the proximity’ll help,” she said.

Bednar stayed behind to talk to Cveta about the start of the season, and wait for G and EJ, who were next. Mikko and Nate drove to the lunch place near the rink, which was good since Mikko was suddenly ravenously hungry. They ordered, and sat at a table, talking about some of the prospects who were coming to rookie camp. Mikko didn't have a strong opinion on lots of them, but Nate had been keeping up on a few of them, and there were a couple names Mikko recognised.

Their sandwiches arrived and they both fell on them. Mikko wiped his mouth when he got about half way through.

“How was the summer?” he asked. Nate was still chewing and went “mh!” around his food like he'd just thought of something. He chewed quickly and pulled his phone out of his pocket.

Nate showed him the Tim Hortens commercials he'd filmed in the summer, and Mikko had to pound on his own chest to recover from choking on a laugh.

“Big fancy actor now?” he said, and Nate grinned back.

“Yeah,” he said, blushing kinda but still swaggering. Mikko patted his chest; he could feel a burp coming on. Nate made a sound and then burped loudly. It was kinda gross, but Mikko watched, fascinated. Had he felt that?

Nate looked at him.

“What?” he said.

“I felt that, I knew you were gonna burp,” Mikko said, and Nate made a face.

“Weird,” he said.

“ _Cool_ ,” Mikko said, and took a slurp of his soda.

&&&

He was still kind of jetlagged, so he worked out in the evening, in an attempt to make him fall asleep at a normal time, and then crashed hard, face down into his pillow.

He came to in a dream, although not one he'd ever had before. He'd been pretty good at dreaming at school, but it was a hassle to build and maintain dreams. As most of his teachers could attest, he was pretty lazy when it came to non-hockey stuff. He was naked, and inside a sunflower, which was cool, and someone was playing music. He looked over the edge of the flower. He wasn't very high up.

“Why are you naked?” someone said, and Mikko turned around. Nate was on the other side of the flower, in sweats and an Avs t shirt. Mikko stretched and stepped out of the flower onto the plush carpet-like grass. Nate covered his eyes with his hands. “Ahh!” he said loudly, sounding horrified.

Mikko rolled his eyes.

“It's just a dream,” he said, but Nate didn't take his hands off his eyes. “Fine,” he said, grumpily. He didn't get why he had to change his own dream. He wasn't embarrassed.

He thought hard for a second, and imagined himself some clothes, just sweats and a shirt like Nate was wearing.

“Your dream is really weird,” Nate said, as he took his hands off his eyes. He was staring at the music band, who were all wearing animal masks, except for the drummer, who was a rabbit.

“It's a good dream!” Mikko said. They were outdoors, it was sunny, nothing scary was happening, it was an objectively nice dream. Nate scratched his nose.

“Uh, it's kinda psychedelic,” he said. Mikko wasn't 100% sure what that meant, but his dreams had always bright. Lots of shit happened in your dreams. It was better not to read too much into it.

&&&

  
Practice kept going fine. Nothing magical yet, but Mikko kept getting flashes that were definitely from the bond. It took him a couple of days to realise that the reason he kept feeling ravenously hungry after practice was because he was feeling Nate’s hunger as well. He put protein bars in the bag he brought with him to the rink, and tried to push one on Nate before practice.

“My routine is fine,” Nate said, holding up one hand and leaning back. Mikko had caught him in the process of putting his hockey socks on. “I’m not hungry.”

“You’re _really hungry_  after practice,” Mikko said, and pushed the protein bar at him. Nate shook his head, and then a balled-up sock hit Nate in the side of the head.

“Just eat the damn protein bar,” Tyson said, holding his other sock. Nate huffed grumpily and took it, eating with an annoyed expression on his face. He hated being told what to do.

During practice, Mikko was at the bench getting a drink, facing away from the ice when he heard the crash that was the sound of the rink barrier shattering. Without turning around, he _knew_  it was Nate that had broke it, and when he did look over Gabe was laughing and hassling Nate.

All the hockey stuff would come eventually, and in the meantime the quick flashes of the bond were pretty cool.

&&&

Nate continued to show up in Mikko’s dreams all week. Nate seemed to think they were weird, but to Mikko this was normal dream behaviour. Some dinosaurs owned a restaurant with really good steaks, but Nate and Mikko couldn’t find steak knives, so they had to swim with a bunch of colourful fish in the sea, which had an entrance on the road Mikko took to the rink every day. A dream Josty, not the real one who Mikko had never shared dreams with, got kidnapped, so Nate and Mikko had to fight a dragon who only spoke Swedish and Mikko’s Swedish teacher from high school had to save them.

In the awake world, Nate took Mikko out for lunch after practice. Mikko ate his sandwich and waited for Nate to say whatever was on his mind.

“The bond hasn’t really changed our hockey yet,” Nate said, and sucked on his straw. Mikko shrugged.

“They said it would take time,” Mikko said. He wasn’t concerned. Nate kept coming to his dreams, which he assumed was a good sign. Nate made a face. He could be patient when he had to, but he didn’t enjoy it.

“The season isn’t very far away,” he said. Mikko sighed. He honestly didn’t think there was anything they could do, but it couldn’t hurt to try something.

“Why not I come dream with you?” he asked, and Nate chewed, looking thoughtful.

“My dreams are pretty different from yours,” he said carefully, and Mikko shrugged. He’d shared lots of dreams in high school when it had been exciting, mostly with teammates, and since then mostly with hookups, when they were both tired but didn’t want the night to finish. He didn’t think he’d see anything too weird.

“It’s okay,” he said. “It’ll be fine.”

&&&

That night, he didn’t let himself crash into sleep like he usually did, and lay there thinking hard about going to Nate’s dreams. It helped if you had strong memories of the person, and all of Mikko’s memories of Nate were strong: Nate’s smug face right after he scored, his laugh after Landy caught an edge in practice, wrestling Tyson on the plane, yelping when Tyson jabbed him in the side.

Mikko fell asleep without noticing, thinking about hockey.

When he came to, he was in someone’s living room, and it was cold. Really cold, because when he breathed he could see his own breath in front of him. He shivered, and imagined himself some warmer clothes. Who made their own dream cold?

He wandered through the house, imagining himself warmer boots, gloves and a hat. It was cold because every single window and door was open, and outside snow was on the ground, the cold, crisp air blowing into the house.

When he found the kitchen, he finally saw Nate, for the first time since arriving in the dream, out the back kitchen window. There was a backyard rink set up, with homemade ice, and a goal, with a goalie target tied on, at one end, and Nate was standing next to a pile of pucks, still in his normal shoes, wristing pucks glove side one after the other.

Mikko blew on his hands, pulled on his gloves, and stepped outside into the snow. Nate noticed him, but kept flicking pucks at the net, a few bouncing off the post or the target.

“Are you doing shooting drills in your dreams?” Mikko asked, stamping his feet to try and stay warm. Nate shrugged and flicked another puck at the net.

“I have this one a lot,” he said. “If I get 10 in a row, I wake up.”

Mikko made a face.

“Really?” That was definitely weird, although Mikko was going to be respectful and not say it. Nate blushed, and looked away.

“Don’t laugh at me, it’s helpful,” he said. Mikko shrugged. If he said so.

“Why is your house so cold?” he asked, instead of arguing. Nate wristed another puck into the glove side, which made three in a row.

“I dunno,” Nate said, fishing a puck out of the pile. “That’s my big memory of practicing outside when I was a kid, how cold it was. Whenever I come back, my dreams always make it real cold.”

That was kind of sweet in a weird way. Nate flicked another two into the goal, easily. Mikko watched him pot the next five like it was nothing, and then the dream faded away into nothing, just the blank emptiness of sleep.

&&&

Two nights later Mikko woke up in his own dream with his eyes closed. It was warm, and steamy, and smelled viscerally of home, like damp, old wood and a cold frost outside. He breathed in deeply, and relaxed. He was in the sauna at his parent's summer house.

“Argh!” That was Nate, which Mikko hadn't expected to follow him to this particular dream, but when he opened his eyes Nate had his hands over his eyes, and was completely naked.

“Why are you naked in all your dreams!” Nate said. He was turning red faster than the sauna could make him. Mikko shrugged.

“You're naked too,” he said. He was used to getting an eyeful in the locker room, and the shower. He knew Nate looked good, big in the shoulders and chest like Mikko liked, and now flushed all over. Nate made a face like Mikko had committed a huge faux pas by recognising that Nate also had no clothes on.

“I _know_ ,” he said, annoyed. “The dream won't let me imagine clothes.”

“Clothes in a sauna is really dumb,” Mikko said, but Nate looked so unhappy he released his mental grip on the dream, and imagined both of them in swim trunks. For his own benefit, he made Nate’s a little shorter in the thigh than he normally would. He wasn't a saint.

Nate fidgeted for a few minutes while Mikko breathed in the sauna. It was a dream sauna, where you never had to watch the timer on the side, and the steam was always the right amount, and his mom wasn't going to complain about him taking up the top bench. He didn't miss home a lot; he'd been away for a long time now, and even as an adult with money he didn't think small-town Finland had a lot going for it, but dreams were a place to explore the parts of home that had sunk so deep into your subconscious they were inextricable from your self, like rocks at the bottom of a pond.

“I've never been in a sauna,” Nate said, using the wooden ladle to nudge the rocks.

“This is my parent's sauna,” Mikko said. “At our lakehouse at home.”

“Maybe I should visit some time,” Nate said, and Mikko grinned at him. He thought Nate in Finland would be pretty funny.

“Can't wear shorts in a sauna in Finland,” He pointed out, and Nate made a face again.

“I don't think having me in your dreams and then making fun of me is very good for the bond,” Nate said grumpily.

“Sauna together is good bonding,” Mikko said, a little offended. “And we played hockey together on your rink!”

Mikko had gone to Nate’s dreams twice more since he had watched him practice wristers, and they had played keepaway on the tiny rink, wrestling and knowing you couldn't get hurt in a dream. Mikko liked having Nate in his dreams, even if he seemed picky about the actual dreamscapes. It was good to have the company, and someday soon it would come on the ice. Mikko wasn't worried. Nate had never let the team down.

&&&

Nate’s next dream was at the movie theatre, with no rink to be seen, which was weird. All of Nate’s dreams had been in his backyard rink, and strange, cold childhood home. This was new.

They were sat in the middle row of the cinema, which contracted and grew in size at random, the way space in a dream was completely without rules.

“Where are we?” Mikko asked Nate, sitting beside him in the middle row of the cinema seats. Nate touched the back of the seat in front of him, looking around at the other, nameless couples dotted around the seats.

“I don't know, it's not a real place,” he said. There was a movie playing, but the dream wouldn't let Mikko look directly at it, his focus kept sliding away like water on glass, the images on the screen staying blurry.

Nate leaned back and let his head rest on the back of the chair, looking up at the vaulted cinema ceiling. Mikko squinted at one of the couples sitting near them. It didn't look like they were watching the movie.

“Nate, is this a sex dream?” He asked, delighted.The couple were kissing slowly, almost sensually. When he focused on the other couples in the theatre, he realised they were all embracing, in some way or another. He grinned and stuck his tongue between his teeth, waggling his eyebrows at Nate. This was priceless.

Nate had turned bright red, with embarrassed white blotches on the high points of his cheeks.

“No!” He said, with an embarrassing squeak at the end. Mikko smiled even more.

“Well then, come on,” Mikko said, already leaning over. Dreams usually had a reason they wanted you to do something, even if it didn't seem logical.

“What?” Nate said sounding strangled, but it was too late, their lips connected, Nate’s mouth already open. It was wet, and uncoordinated, and then Mikko adjusted and their lips were pressed together, almost gently.

They made out for a long time, leaning over the arm divider between the seats. Mikko loved it. Dating was a nightmare around an NHL schedule, and he hooked up in the offseason, but he loved making out, and there hadn't been anyone he wanted to dreamshare with in months. Kisses in dreams were never too wet, or gross, and Nate was a responsive, eager kisser, soft sounds between kisses. It felt like being a teenager again, kissing without sex, barely even touching, just the press and slide of Nate’s mouth on his.

Eventually, almost unnoticed, the dream faded into the deepness of REM, but the kiss didn't break, not until they were they were both too asleep to remember.

Mikko woke up before his alarm, softy, a rectangle of sunlight falling over his face. The memory of the dream was unfocused, but intense, the feeling of being close to Nate, the sweet, perfect kiss. He loved dreaming about sex. It was always more intense than sex awake. And thinking about it later was thrilling, the best kind of fantasy. It was still early. He had time to think about it.

He pushed his hand down his shorts, not bothering to take them off. He had woken up half-hard, but pulling at the memory of the dream, and his own hand, squeezing and then jacking himself, was enough to get him all the rest of the way. He jerked off fast, not messing around, still feeling sleepy and warm but now also warmed all the way through from making out with a buddy, no worries, just good kisses.

He showered after, singing tunelessly. Today was gonna be a good day.

&&&

He was in such a fucking good mood, and he knew everyone else could tell. Gabe threw stuff at him when he sung tunelessly getting into his pads, which just made him be louder, and EJ, who was settling firmly into his grouchy old man persona, wrestled with him until they got let on the ice. He smacked Nate on the ass with his stick when they huddled up by the bench, and Nate looked at him like a displeased wet cat, but he was blushing under his visor.

They did odd man rushes on the new goalie, and things were good, clicking well, until it took them both by surprise. Nate was behind the net, him and Colin both fighting for the puck, and there was no way he could even see Mikko, he had his back to him. Mikko suddenly knew, with complete certainty, where he needed to be, and two seconds later, Nate slipped the puck around the net and to Mikko's tape, where he hadn't been a second before and where he couldn't possibly know Mikko was, and Mikko slapped it, barely needing to aim Grubi was so surprised.

Nate fist-bumped him, smiling behind his visor. It had been a pretty slick pass. Grubi pushed his helmet up to sit on top of his head and raised his eyebrows at both of them.

“I guess the bond's working?” he asked, and Mikko shrugged.

“I guess,” he said. He wasn't sure it was the bond that had done it, but Nate had known where he was without looking, without him calling for it. He hoped it was the bond. Nate had been worried about it.

They both skated slowly to the back of the drill line. Landy was in front of Mikko, and he turned a little, keeping an eye on the drill.

“That looked good,” he said, and Mikko grinned at him. Nate, who hated ever being left out, skated up to collide gently with Mikko’s shoulder.

“Bond feeling good?” Landy asked, directing the question a little more at Nate.

Nate scratched at his chin with his glove.

“Yeah, I think so,” he said. “We've got a check-in today, so we'll see.”

It happened twice more that practice, the feeling of inexplicable knowing, once when Nate was battling in the corner and then kicked the puck out with his skate and Mikko knew it was going to happen before he even saw Nate move his foot. The second time was pretty slick, a no-look pass under G's stick onto Nate’s tape, a sweet wrister blocker side. They were clicking.

Cveta looked them over afterwards, once they'd showered and changed and dragged themselves to one of the trainers’ rooms. She made both of them sit and ran a hand over their heads, doing something that made the hair rise up on the back of Mikko’s arms.

“It's looking good,” she said, sitting at her desk. “Everything's connecting well, I like the feeling of the bond. How has it been for you?”

Mikko shrugged. He didn't know if he was supposed to feel different. He felt the same, mostly, aside from practice today, and the regular dreamsharing.

“We've been sharing dreams,” Nate said, leaning forward to brace his elbows on his thighs. “Pretty regularly.”

Cveta made a note, and looked at both of them.

“Is dreamsharing pretty normal for you?” she asked. Mikko waggled a hand, meaning “sort of”.

“I share back home a lot,” he said. “Never with a teammate before.”

Nate turned to look at him, his eyebrows raising.

“Really?” he said. Mikko hadn't expected a reaction and shrugged.

“Nate, what about you?” Cveta asked, dragging Nate’s attention back to her.

“Uh, I've shared with Tyson before, and uh, some teammates before,” he said. He made a face like he'd been caught staying up after his bedtime. “Usually hockey dreams.”

Mikko wondered if Nate had shared any of the other kind of dream, the passionate kissing in a cinema, sexy and sensual all in one. Maybe not if he'd been sharing dreams to get in more practice time. He'd have to find a casual way to ask Tyson.

Cveta made some more notes, and then did a bunch of exercises with them, making Nate cover his eyes and point where Mikko was standing, getting Mikko to guess what cards Nate was looking at. At first Mikko thought they were weird, and then the strange knowing came back, and he realised that feeling was Nate reaching out for him through the bond.

“Cool,” he said, when he realised he knew Nate was looking at a card with three wavy lines on it. He was suddenly itching to use it properly on the ice. They were gonna fucking kill it this year like this. He’d gotten a taste of what they could do, and he wanted to do it again.

Cveta checked them over again before they left, and gave them homework.

“Keep sharing dreams,” she said. “It’ll help the bond to settle more. Try and do some of what we did today on the ice, and I’ll see you in two weeks. Good job boys.”

Mikko grinned, and even Nate cracked a smile. They’d done good.

They’d made plans to go to Nate’s for lunch already, since they were getting out of practice after everyone else, and Mikko drove his car behind Nate’s back to his condo, idly reaching for the same feeling of connection. He could feel when Nate was annoyed at the guy merging on the freeway, and he felt the palpable relief when he pulled into his driveway. He wondered what Nate could feel from him. He was hungry, and he had a bruise forming on his thigh from a fall, but Nate could be getting anything, Mikko’s idle thought about how they were going to kill this season, his daydreaming about making out. He put his car in park in Nate’s driveway and shrugged. It wasn’t a big deal. There wasn’t anything bad for Nate to feel off him. Mikko was 100% on board.

They ate big sandwiches sitting on Nate’s sofa, yesterday’s Penguins game playing on the tv. Nate couldn’t cook but he had successfully hit on the strategy of buying stuff from the deli section of the grocery store a couple of years ago, and always had fancy sandwich stuff. Mikko thought it was almost more impressive than learning how to make any of the fancy stuff, because this way you could have lunch without messing around ordering food but didn’t actually have to make anything.

Mikko was still licking sauce off his fingers, one eye on the game, when Nate set his empty plate down on the coffee table with a sharp sound.

“Uh, I thought I should say,” Nate said, and then didn’t go on. Mikko sucked a bit of relish off his knuckles, and turned to look at him.

“Mh?” he said. There was a bit of sandwich still in his mouth. Nate sighed.

“I’m sorry for that dream. I shouldn’t have let how I feel get involved like that. It wasn’t very professional, and it won’t happen again,” he said, like he’d thought about what to say a couple of times and worked out those lines in advance. Mikko chewed as quickly as he could.

“What are you talking about?” he said, when he’d swallowed. Nate was blushing, and it suddenly got more intense, the blotchy colour showing even through Nate’s blonde beard.

“Uh, the dream last night?” Nate said slowly, clearly embarrassed. Mikko was so confused. He was sorry about the kissing dream? What was there to be sorry about?

“What are you sorry about?” he said, furrowing his eyebrows pointedly. “It was a good dream.”

Nate was bright red now, but he was determined to finish whatever he felt he had to say.

“Uh, maybe you felt it was okay,” Nate said, “but it wasn’t okay of me. I know we want the bond to work, but if you don’t feel comfortable because of how I feel…”

Mikko waved a hand to interrupt him. He was pretty sure Nate was having a conversation that Mikko didn’t really understand.

“What do you mean, how you feel?” he said. Nate swallowed, and made a compulsive, involuntary gesture with his hands.

“Uh, I kinda thought you knew,” he said, still blushing. “I’ve, I mean, I, uh, really like you, and,uh..”

Mikko grinned. This was amazing news.

“Like me, like, crush?” he asked, just to be certain, because he still got English confused sometimes and Nate hadn’t exactly been super articulate. Nate nodded mutely, looking like he wanted to sink into the floor.

“Sorry,” he said, and Mikko reached out to grab his shoulder, glad he’d cleaned the relish off his hands.

“Nate, I like the dream, it was a good dream. I like kissing you,” he said, and then grinned when Nate looked at him nervously. “You liked kissing me yeah?”

“Well, yeah,” Nate said slowly, and Mikko grinned even wider. He was right and Nate had basically admitted it. He didn’t really know how to use the bond at all, but he pushed the feeling of happiness, how good he felt, at Nate as hard as he could, and felt a shiver of something, maybe recognition, back.

“Nate,” he said, just to get Nate to make eye contact with him, and then leaned in slowly, making sure Nate didn’t pull away, until they were kissing, for the first time awake. It was soft, tasted a little like their sandwiches, and was amazing.

Nate gasped into the kiss, and slowly they fell into each other, Mikko pulling up a knee so he could crawl up and press himself against Nate’s wide chest. Nate had a big sofa, big enough for the two of them to lie sideways, and the kiss stayed gentle for only a few minutes, getting more heated the more they touched each other. Making out in dreams was great, but dreams couldn’t replicate the heat of Nate’s body, the close sound of his breathing, the scratch of his beard against Mikko’s chin. It was intoxicatingly good, and even better when Nate got his hand up Mikko’s shirt. They were pressed close together, legs tangled in the sofa, and it got hot quickly, sweaty where they were pressed together, and then hot as fuck, Nate’s dick pressed up against Mikko’s leg. He ground down and Nate made a deep involuntary groan, and ground back, until they were dry-humping on the sofa, still kissing.

“Oh fuck,” Nate said quietly, when Mikko pulled back from the kiss, and he was red still, but it wasn’t a blush, it was being turned on. Mikko liked it a lot better. He moved his leg to grind against Nate’s erection, and felt, amazingly, the surge of arousal from Nate’s end of the bond. Mikko smiled at him.

“You want to fuck?” he said, and then sat up to pull off his shirt. Nate made a choking sound, but Mikko could feel how turned on he was.

“Yeah,” Nate said, scrambling a little to get his own shirt off. “Yeah, I do.”

They were both wearing shorts, and it was nothing to push them down and kick them off, until Mikko was naked on Nate’s sofa in the middle of the day and entirely not self-conscious of it because he was watching Nate get naked too. He watched Nate get naked a lot, but this was the best version, Nate flushed and his dick thick and hard. Mikko reached out and got a hand on it before Nate had even lain back down on the sofa.

“Uh,” Nate grunted, and nearly faceplanted into the sofa. Mikko laughed and kept jerking him off, pulling his foreskin back so he could rub his thumb over the head of Nate’s dick, his hips working his dick into Mikko’s hand. He got his other hand free from between their bodies and got a hand on Nate’s ass, pulling them together so his dick tucked in between Nate’s thighs, his shaft rubbing against his balls. They were both sweating, and Nate’s muscles worked every time his hips flexed, tightening and working around Mikko’s dick, hot and good and he could feel the waves of arousal coming through the bond, knew it was coming just before Nate bit his collarbone.

He shoved the feeling back at Nate as hard as he could and kept up a steady pace with his hand, until he felt Nate jerk and heard him groan, and felt him come all over his hand. His thighs clenched as he came, and then the feeling of coming came through the bond, more intense then he’d felt anything else, and that was all Mikko needed to pull him over the edge and come between Nate’s thighs.

Both of them were still breathing hard, and Mikko propped himself up on his clean hand so he could kiss Nate as they caught their breath.

“Mm,” he said, working his tongue between his teeth, when they pulled apart. “This bond is awesome.”

Nate looked a little sheepish, now that he was realising he was naked and covered in come on his sofa, but Mikko didn’t intend to feel bad about it for a second. It had been awesome. He flicked Nate’s nipple, and he jerked away, laughing.

“Hey!”, he said, grabbing Mikko’s hip to stop from falling off the sofa.

“We’re gonna be awesome this year,” Mikko said, meaning it in ever sense, and leaned over to kiss him again.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Wasn't a Fragile Thing](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18355316) by [shmorgas](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shmorgas/pseuds/shmorgas)




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